As the Moon Will
by Drunken Boxer
Summary: Wax and Wayne, a story from their early days in the Roughs. Wayne's training as Wax's chosen deputy has only just begun, and he's got a lot to learn about himself and his mentor. Largely fluff with a bit of character insight.


"You're overdoing it, Wayne," Waxillium Ladrian warned casually.

"I'm not," Wayne said immediately, scratching absentmindedly at his neck.

"You're breaking out."

"I'm not rashing," Wayne said, turning his face away from Wax as if to conceal the patches his cheeks and neck.

Waxillium sighed. Wayne was just shy of eighteen, still a youth despite his colorful past, and desperate to prove himself to his mentor. And he was a stubborn one, endlessly pushing himself even to his own detriment. Wax grimaced slightly, knowing he would have to drill some lessons on limitations into the boy. But perhaps this was not the day. Wayne already looked dead on his feet, dark circles under his eyes and an unhealthy rosy tinge on his cheeks.

"Come on, I've had enough of this searching for bullet casings for one day. Best get back to the Lair before it gets too dark."

"You sure, Wax?" Wayne asked. Wax thought he could see a bit of relief trickling through the youth's tough facade. Waxillium nodded and turned back towards the town.

They walked in silence that was only broken by the occasional sniffle from Wayne behind him. It didn't escape Waxillium's notice that Wayne's steps were dragging slightly. He was trying to store health at too great a rate considering they were out and about today.

After what felt like ages to Wayne, they reached the house they were staying in. It wasn't much but it kept them warm and dry so neither complained. Wax tossed his duster on a chair upon entering and immediately set about starting a fire. It wasn't a particularly cold night, but experience told him Wayne was going to put up a fuss.

Said boy had flopped down on his bed without bothering to take off his boots or too large bowler hat, seemingly exhausted from the walk back. "Told you you were overdoing it," Wax said without looking up from the fireplace.

"I'm fine," Wayne said. Then he sneezed.

"You look awful."

"Now now, Wax, there's no reason to insult yourself."

Waxillium blinked. "What?"

"If I look awful you must be downright acidic on the eyes."

Shaking his head, Wax opted to ignore the barb. "Feeling up to eating?"

Wayne sneezed again. "No," he mumbled. "Just wanna sleep."

Fire tended, Wax strode over to Wayne's bed. He pulled off the bowler hat and with surprising gentleness placed his hand on the boy's forehead. "You're feverish," he mentioned. "You really are pushing too hard to fill your metalminds."

"Need all the health I can get," Wayne sniffled.

"It does no good to be so ill on the field. You'll end up missing something. Or being shot because you're too slow."

"That's why I need the health."

"I don't think that's how it works."

No response from Wayne.

"Come on kid, get up. You gotta take off your metalminds or you'll just use up the stores while you sleep and all this," Waxillium motioned to Wayne's prostrate form, "will have been for nought."

"Cold," Wayne said softly, curling under his mess of blankets.

"Yeah you're regretting your recklessness now," Wax said. "I'll put another log on the fire if you take off your metalminds."

Two gold bracers dropped to the floor, followed by a pair of boots. "Wax," Wayne moaned. "I feel terrible."

Wax said nothing. There was nothing to say and it was not the time for another lecture on moderation. Instead he placed an additional log on the fire - they were running low he noted - and set about making a simple soup, one he knew Wayne would eat even when feeling poorly.

In just a few minutes, Wax poured hot soup into a cup, intent on coaxing or forcing Wayne to eat something. "Up," he said to the pile of blankets.

Wayne sneezed but struggled to sit up, knowing Wax wouldn't let him sleep without some calories in him. Wax helped him up and after handing Wayne the cup wrapped him tightly in a blanket. "One day you'll learn just how to store health without draining yourself so much."

Wayne nodded, subdued. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry I was just - "

"I know, Wayne, I know," Wax said softly. "Drink your soup." Wayne complied wordlessly.

He sneezed again and Wax placed another hand on his forehead then moved carefully to his burnt red, rash-covered cheeks. "You're really overdoing it, Wayne. Feeling okay? Want to get some of that health back?"

Wayne shook his head. "Won't help fer long," he said, Roughs accent coming through a bit more in his exhaustion. "'S'not the same 's healin' a wound. Sickness comes back real quick."

"If you're sure," Wax said hesitantly. What did he know about taking care of kids.

Wayne sniffled. "'M sure."

"Well, you're pretty feverish."

A nod of acknowledgment.

Waxillium sighed, as if Wayne had always been his charge and not a recent addition to his lawmaker life. "Get some sleep, kid. Hopefully you'll feel better tomorrow. Otherwise I might have to put you down."

Wayne started, "You...you wouldn't shoot me?" He paused, his tired mind desperately trying to think clearly.

Wax chuckled. "After all the trouble I went through to train you up? Seems a right shame if I were to be rid of you so quickly."

"Oh good," Wayne said, sinking back down in his bed. "Promise I'll do you proud."

"I'm holding you to that promise, kid."

Wayne sniffled in response and nestled further into his blankets, shivering briefly but enough for Wax to see. Waxillium shut his eyes for a moment, praying to Harmony he was doing the right thing for Wayne. Not just letting him siphon off and store health, catching what appeared to be a nasty cold in the process, but training him to fight, instilling the honor of a lawmaker in but a boy. But he had given Wayne a second chance at life, more than most got out in the Roughs, and Wayne wanted to fight. He wanted justice for the people equally as much as Wax. How much was natural though? And how much was it Wax's own code of morals that Wayne had adopted to try to please the man who saved his life?

A sneeze from Wayne cut through his musings.

"Don't think s'hard, mate," Wayne said sleepily. "Yer head might just explode."

"Thought I told you to rest."

"I am restin'. Lyin' down n'verything. It's yer worryin' keeps me up."

Waxillium denied automatically, "I'm not worrying."

"Sure y'are," Wayne snuffled. "Always worrying about the case, the townfolks." A beat of silence. "Me," he finished quietly, mixed with doubt and a sliver of hope.

Uncharacteristic affection filled Wax. "Of course you."

In an instant, Wayne's self doubt seemed to have vanished, though Wax knew better. "Of course me, worrying you might catch this nasty bug of a cold. But fear not, my dear Waxillium, for it is not catching."

Wax couldn't help but grin. "You must be delusional with fever if you think your little cold worries me. You might be incapacitated by the sniffles but I'm a full grown man, far more resilient."

Wayne smiled tiredly. The extra outburst of energy had sapped him of his reserve strength, but Waxillium had snapped out of his brooding so he finally let himself feel the raging fever and the cold ache in his bones. "Put another log on the fire would you, oh big strong capable grown up."

Hands appeared in his field of vision before gently coming to a stop on his forehead. "You're - "

Wayne cut him off, "I'm really overdoing it and have a terrible fever. I've broken out in a rash and I'm just a little queasy."

The hands moved his chin, presumably so Wax could get a better look at him. "You're feeling sick to your stomach? You don't normally get nauseated."

Wayne winced, chastising himself for letting that little fact slip. "I'm fine, Wax. You're right, I tried to store too much and got myself a bit more sick than normal. But I'm fine. Better to do it now and have full metalminds when I really need them. Quit your worrying."

"All right, all right. I'll let you be. But you better let me know if you need anything. And if you start to feel worse I'm slapping your metalminds right back on you, even if it's only a temporary help."

Wayne nodded, looking intent on drifting off to sleep. Wax sighed once more, took the cup from Wayne's limp hand, and got up to fix his own dinner while keeping a watchful eye on his young deputy as he slept.

"Oi, don't forget that extra log, lawman."

Wax shook his head almost fondly. Bloodmakers, bloody trouble makers.

A/N: So I haven't disappeared completely, just mostly. But how could I resist this fandom that includes a young reckless character who can essentially make himself sick at will? Apologies to those who know more; I've only read the first book of the Alloy of Law trilogy. Hope you enjoyed the fluff and the characters weren't too unbelievable.


End file.
